Gold Stars and Wishes
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: Santana finds out that being close to Rachel comes with some serious perks. And some serious responsibility. Genie!Rachel. Pezberry/Quinndependence
1. Choosing Santana

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

"Thanks for bringing me home, Santana," Rachel said, shivering.

"No way I was letting you walk home in the rain, especially after you'd been slushied."

They made their way through her house and into her room.

"How did I know it would be pink?" Santana asked with a grin.

"Not sure. Do you often think about the décor of my room?"

"Ha ha…. Go shower and I'll pick out a movie. Oh, by the way…"

"Yeah?"

"Do you sing Streisand in the shower? Because I owe Quinn thirty bucks if you don't."

"Sorry, you're going to have to pay up," Rachel told her, peeking out of the bathroom. "Maroon 5 are my go-to shower songs."

"Damn it!" Santana lamented, flopping backward onto the bed. She rolled to one side and looked through Rachel's DVDs.

By the time Rachel came out of the bathroom, she'd watched two episodes of Mighty Mouse and was putting in The Avengers. "Feel better?"

"Yep!" Rachel chirped, shrugging on her Wicked hoodie.

"What was that?" Santana asked.

"What?"

"On your back."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel mumbled, not meeting the older girl's eyes.

"Don't bullshit, Rachel. What did we agree at the beginning of this year?"

Rachel smiled. "That we wouldn't mess around with secrets and gossip and anything that held us back before."

"Exactly. So…I believe I saw a tattoo on your back. Story time with Rachel…."

"It's hard to explain."

Santana stared at her girlfriend. "What's wrong?"

"I can't…."

"Rachel," Santana said gently. "Let me see."

With a sigh, Rachel took her hoodie off, and turned so that Santana could see her back.

It was a tattoo of a tree, but the branches formed pictures. Pictures of some really weird things.

"Um…what the hell?"

Rachel turned to face her again. "I have something to tell you…. It's important, and you're probably not going to believe it…."

"Rachel, did someone…make you get these? What's going on?"

"The answer is both no and yes. Santana…I'm…different. Really different."

"You're starting to scare me, Rach," Santana said, taking her hand.

"Don't be. I'm sorry; I'm stalling. Just…listen for a second. I'm…a genie."

Silence.

"Really," Rachel continued. "Like…yeah, the type that grants wishes. My dads adopted me so they could…er…have it all, I suppose."

"You've got to be joking."

Rachel shook her head. With a sigh, she began to explain. "There are…two different races of genies. One is the, um, Aladdin kind. Three wishes, that's it. My kind are a bit more powerful. As long as you're in control of our soul source—our 'lamp'," Rachel added, seeing Santana's blank look. "As long as you have that, you get your wishes. But the lamp chooses who we belong to. So if Jacob Ben Israel stole my soul source, I wouldn't have to become his love slave or anything," she joked, trying to ease the tension. "I can also grant wishes on my own."

"Wha?"

"Like, if you wished for something, I could choose to grant it. Go ahead, try."

Santana looked at her, and then at her back. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I believe you…. If I make a wish, will it come up on your back?"

"Yep. That's my…history. Well, one of them."

"What?"

"I'll explain that part later. Go on. Make a wish."

"Will it hurt you?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile at Santana's concern. "It—" she stopped with a gasp. The gold star coin bank on her desk was glowing a beautiful purple-blue color. "Oh my god."

"What the fuck?"

"It…it chose you."

"Huh? You mean your lamp…er…piggy bank…"

"Wish for something."

"Not if it's going to hurt you."

"It won't. I feel a little…sting for about two seconds. Otherwise it's nothing."

"Okay…I guess…. I wish for—"

"I should mention that I cannot give or take life, and I can't create or destroy affection."

"So if I wished for Finnocence to fall madly in love with Jew Fro…?" Santana asked, grinning despite the high levels of freaky in the room.

"Couldn't do it. Also, be specific."

"I wish for two breadsticks, of the Breadstix variety, at lunch and dinner every day."

Rachel touched a finger to her lips and took a deep breath. "Done."

"I'm just realizing that I probably should've picked something with immediate payoff."

Rachel smiled. "We'll cook in a little while. It's already four o'clock."

"In the meantime… I think I need you to explain more."

Rachel nodded, and settled down next to Santana. "They adopted me when I was one. It's easier than you'd think to find genies online."

"I'm sure. Just google 'I need a surrogate- must be magical'."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but smiled. "They started making wishes when I was around three."

"How did you even know how to…use your powers, or whatever?"

"Er…that's where this gets a bit complicated. See…I exist in other forms, in different times."

"You mean 'existed'."

"Time runs parallel. Right now, I'm nursing a wounded soldier back to health in World War II. I'm also running a jazz lounge during Prohibition."

"Fuck right off."

"No, seriously," Rachel said. "That's what I meant earlier when I said my tree is one of my histories. And, might I add, my jazz club is super successful."

Santana's mind was reeling. "So… let me see it again."

Rachel turned over on her stomach and lifted her shirt.

The tattoo showed all of the things Santana expected to see. Money, cars, the house…material things. It also showed—

"Er, Rach? Is that a dick?"

She sighed. "Unfortunately. They got greedy a few years ago. Started wishing for more and more stuff. Daddy wished to be…er…more well endowed."

"Oh my god…." Santana said. She continued to trace the blue shapes on Rachel's back, occasionally stopping to ask about one. Finally, she asked, "What will they do when they find out?"

"Freak. That's why they chose to move to a small town instead of living a glamorous life in some big city. They figured there was less of a chance that people would find out. Less of a chance that I'd have to move on. But they still have one last wish before I officially belong to you."

"Stop that. You're my girlfriend, not my property. So, what do you think they'll wish for?"

Rachel squirmed nervously. "Money, probably. That way they won't really need the wishes anymore…."

"I sense there's a 'but' coming."

"When I was little, and didn't want to perform, they used to threaten to free me."

"Well…that wouldn't be so bad now, would it? I mean, when you were younger, you probably thought they meant they'd leave you. But we're going off to college next year. You don't really need them."

"It's not just that. If I'm freed in one time, I'm freed in all the others as well. And my soul source would choose one time period for me to live out. So I might end up as Rachel the scullery maid, or the nurse. I know all my forms, but I like living this one the best. Scullery maids tend to get beaten, and mine is no exception. And my nurse is on the battlefield, which I'm not overly fond of."

"What happens if you…you know…?"

"Die? I'm reformed in another time."

Santana pulled her a little closer. "Wait…can't you—I mean, your maid form—fight back? When those assholes beat you….?"

"No," Rachel said sadly, shaking her head. "The thing about the lamp choosing a worthy owner—"

"Please, stop saying that."

Rachel kissed her forehead. "Okay…the lamp choosing someone…the person is supposed to be the genie's protector. Because we can't use our magic to just do things. I'm not like Hermione Granger, here."

"Your Potter reference is noted and appreciated. So you really can only grant wishes."

"Right. So she's…left to the mercy of the innkeeper at the moment. I'm sad for her."

"Me too," Santana said quietly. "We need to tell Quinn."

"What?" Rachel asked, alarmed.

"She's my best friend, and she won't tell. Plus, if your dads don't free you in the magical sense, but free you in the Russell Fabray sense, you'll be able to stay with her. I'd offer, but Papi's still not entirely cool with the gay thing. I think I might be pushing it—"

"It's fine. We can tell her if you're sure."

"I'm positive. She's…grown up a lot over this summer."

"I'd definitely noticed. We all have."

The stayed there, quiet as Thor and Loki battled onscreen.

Finally, Santana turned to Rachel. "I can't even begin to wrap my mind around this. So I'm not going to try. Not tonight. But I'm going to keep you safe. I promise."

Rachel smiled. "Looks like my 'lamp' knew what it was doing." She kissed Santana on the cheek. "Let's go see about your breadsticks."

_**LbN: A new Glee poll is up on my profile, if you want to vote! :)**_


	2. Telling Quinn

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

The breadsticks were sitting on a plate on the counter when they got downstairs.

Santana did her best not to faint.

"Sit down, deep breaths," Rachel said. "Are you okay?"

"I…um…yeah."

Rachel smiled and slid the plate closer to her. "Eat your breadsticks. You'll feel better."

Santana looked from the plate, to Rachel, and back. "Can I see…your tattoo?"

Rachel turned and lifted her shirt again.

There, in blue, were the breadsticks.

Santana felt a little sick. She kissed her fingers and gently touched Rachel's back where the new picture had been added. "It's like I've branded you…."

"Santana, please don't," Rachel said. "It's okay. I told you to. You don't ever have to feel guilty about making a wish, okay?"

Santana nodded, but privately resolved to never make a wish unless it was a life-threatening emergency. "So…you said it was easy to find genies online?"

"Oh yes. We're unionized just like everyone else."

"Holy crap…. Are there, like, books about you guys and stuff?"

"A fair few—mostly in the myth and folklore sections. But once you get past the nonsense about our origins, it's mostly true. I can find you some books, if you want."

Her girlfriend nodded and took a small bite of one of the breadsticks. Definitely tasted legit.

"Why do you think I'll be able to stay with Quinn?" Rachel asked. "If it comes to that, I mean?"

"Judy went all Super Mom when she kicked Russell out. She keeps telling Quinn that if any of her friends ever need a place to stay, their house is open. Repentance and all that."

Rachel nodded and stuck the frozen pizza in the oven. "And…how do you think she'll take it? Quinn, I mean…."

"About the same as me. We don't shock easily, but this is a little out there. When do your dads get home?"

"Sometime next week. They're on a business trip in Beijing."

"Are you worried?" Santana asked softly, as Rachel came around the counter to hug her.

"Yes."

"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay? Where can I find those books?"

"We'll have to hit up the library. Can we call Quinn? I'd like to tell her sooner rather than later. Especially since I'll have to prove it to her, I'm sure."

"I'll text her and ask her to come over."

* * *

About half an hour later, as Santana and Rachel were sitting down with their pizza, the doorbell rang.

Rachel opened it to find Quinn standing there, looking amused.

"I just got a very long text from Santana that boiled down to 'Get over here; my girlfriend's magic'. So either you just gave her one phenomenal orgasm that's addled her brains slightly, or she's huffing glue again. Which is it?"

"Neither. Come on in and we'll explain."

"Oh, she already explained," Quinn said, following Rachel into the living room. "You're a genie apparently."

"That's right," Santana said.

"Rachel, did the nice man at the hippie food store sell you the wrong oregano again?"

"Okay, that was once!"

"And I still say you're the cutest pothead ever."

"Back on topic, please!" Santana said.

"Right, how come Santana thinks you're a genie?" Quinn asked, rolling her eyes.

"Make a wish."

"What?"

"Wish for something so I can prove it. And I can't give or take life, or create or destroy affection."

Quinn stared at them both. "Right…I'll play along. I wish for Viva Mac Glam's Gaga for Ga Ga lip gloss. Sold out across the coun—holy shit!"

Rachel had touched a finger to her lips and taken a deep breath. A second later, a tube of the lip gloss was sitting on the table.

Quinn picked it up, mouth hanging open. "How—"

"Told you so."

She flopped back onto the couch. "Explain. With small words…I'm having trouble here."

Within ten minutes, they'd brought Quinn up to speed on the situation. She'd been just as outraged at the dick tattoo as Santana, but had done a slightly better job hiding it. "Right. I'm on board for Rachel Protection Patrol. Thanks for the lip gloss."

Rachel smiled at the two girls, warmth spreading through her as they turned on a movie and settled in for the night.

* * *

The next day after school, the three girls scoured the Lima library for the books on Rachel's "family history" list. They weren't coming up with much. Just a general folklore book, and something called The Ballad of Taraji, a children's book.

"What did you expect?" Quinn grumbled after an hour. "That's the library that banned Harry Potter AND Chronicles of Narnia. Of course they don't have mythology books."

"I'm highly offended as a reader," Rachel said.

"Road trip time," Santana said.

"It's a school night!" Rachel protested.

"And where are we going?" Quinn asked.

"Cincinnati."

"Look, let's all stay at my house tonight. We'll go to Cincinnati on Saturday. In the meantime, we can Google some stuff."

"What are you guys researching, anyway?" Rachel asked. "You could just ask me."

"We could," Santana agreed. "But you'd get tired of the complete barrage of questions. I want to know everything. I'll ask you if I think I need to call bullshit on something."

"Fair enough," Rachel said, giggling. Her phone rang at that moment. "Hello? Daddy?"

Santana and Quinn stared as Rachel listened to her father. Santana moved to take her hand as she hung up.

"They'll be home tomorrow."

"Easy," Quinn said calmly. "We don't tell them."

"I have to."

They stood in the parking lot, silent, for a few minutes.

"Don't worry. We'll figure something out," Santana said. "I want to be there when you tell them, though."

Rachel nodded silently.

Quinn and Santana exchanged a glance.

"Let's go home," Quinn said. "Stay at my place tonight, Rach."

Rachel nodded, but was silent for the rest of the ride home.


	3. A Wish and a Complication

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

Rachel was surprisingly calm the next day as they set off for school, which made Santana that much more anxious.

"What happens, happens," Rachel said, taking her hand. "I've been thinking about it, and I don't think they'll free me."

"Why not?" Santana said, trying not to get her hopes up.

"Because…well, they're greedy. I think they'll either save the wish or wish for something reasonable, to keep me around. I don't think they'd free me just for spite."

It sounded a bit like Rachel was trying to convince herself, but Santana still nodded reassuringly. "That sounds…reasonable in a sleazy sort of way. Right, remember the plan?"

"I practice in the choir room until you and Quinn are out of Cheerios. Then we make our final stand," she said dramatically, and began to whistle the Imperial Death March.

Santana grinned and pulled Rachel closer to her. There was no way in hell anyone was taking her partner in undercover nerdiness away from her.

They met up with Quinn at the blonde's locker.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Santana asked.

Quinn waved a small tablet at them. "I had a stroke of genius, that's what. I asked my mom if I could borrow her Kindle for the weekend. Told her the three of us had a crazy huge research project to work on this weekend, and she told me it was cool if I took it instead of lugging all of our books around. So," she continued, lowering her voice, "Genie research is all loaded and ready to roll. Santana, I'll let you do the honors."

"If I were single, I'd totally make out with you right now," Santana said, taking the Kindle.

"Me too," Rachel agreed, winking at Quinn.

"You two are goofy. Try not to get it confiscated, all right?"

"Roger that, Captain."

That was easier said than done. The folklore was entertaining, and by fourth period, she'd almost gotten the Kindle taken up twice. By the time Spanish rolled around, she was so not playing anymore.

"Mr. Schue, gotta be real for a second," she said, before class started.

"What's on your mind, Santana?" he asked.

"I'm doing a project for English. And the subject matter is, for once, wicked interesting. I'm passing your class with flying colors, and I've been tutoring half of the clowns in here all year. Mind if I zone out this once?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Sure thing. We're just playing TACO today anyway."

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his made up, slightly racist, version of BINGO. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, Santana had a steady string of questions for Rachel.

Rachel, for her part, was just as patient as she'd said she'd be.

"Yes, I can do that."

"No, that's technically creating affection."

"Yes, but only in certain circumstances."

* * *

Quinn met them on their way to English. "Any luck?"

"Nothing that's going to magically solve all our problems, unfortunately," Santana said.

"We'll think of something. I know there's something an own—uh, a person with the soul source can do to stop the previous one from freeing a genie. I just can't remember."

"Don't worry, Rachel," Quinn said, as they took their seats at the back of the room. "Something will come up."

"Right, class…settle, please."

"Principal Figgins, what are you doing here?" one of the wrestlers asked.

"Mr. Garwin has come down with an unfortunate case of scabies. He will be out until next Monday."

Everyone itched in their seats.

"He has instructed me that I should let you watch a movie and dissect it. I have chosen the Disney classic, Aladdin."

It couldn't be helped—Santana, Quinn and Rachel doubled over laughing.

"Settle, please," Figgins said, pressing play.

They were fine until Rachel decided to sing _Friend Like Me_ at the top of her voice. She got a standing ovation as her two friends laughed.

* * *

Practice was brutal. Santana limped down to the choir room and smiled when she spotted Rachel at the piano.

"Quinn's getting dressed down by coach," she grunted, plopping into one of the seats. "She'll be here in a second."

"Are you hurt?" Rachel asked, rushing over.

"Those bitches on the volleyball team cut up my knee brace. I had to practice without one. Not a sexy feeling, I'll admit."

"You can get a new one."

"Oh, I know. I'll just have to suffer for about a week until it comes in the—"

"Santana. I meant now."

It took a moment for that to click. Santana shook her head. "No. It's fine—"

"It's not. Please? I know you don't want to, but I hate seeing you in pain. I'll just get Quinn to wish for it if you don't."

Santana scowled down at the offending body part for a moment. "Fine," she sighed. "I wish for a medical knee brace identical to the one I had last time."

Rachel put a finger to her lips and took a deep breath. "Look in your bag," she said a second later.

Santana pulled out the brace. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rachel said, giving her a kiss.

"Yuck, get a room," Quinn said playfully, walking in. "Time to meet your makers?"

Rachel nodded. "Santana, are you up to this?"

"Hellz yeah. Time to go cause some chaos at Castle Berry."

* * *

There was a Mercedes in the driveway when they arrived. Santana glared at it. It had been one of the many cars tattooed to Rachel's back.

The girls were silent as they walked into the house. They could hear jazz music floating through the rooms, and her dads' laughter coming from the kitchen. Santana took her hand and Quinn squeezed both of her shoulders as they went in to face Hiram and Leroy.

"Dads?"

"Rachel! There's our little star!" Hiram yelped, and shuffled over to hug her.

Leroy followed right after. "We were planning on staying another week in Beijing, but we missed you."

"Did your meetings go okay?" she asked.

"Better than okay! How are you, Santana? Quinn?"

"Good."

"Fine."

"We…er…have something to tell you," Rachel said.

"Running away to join a nudist colony? Isn't that what all rebellious teens are doing these days?" Leroy asked, joking. "If so, I must heartily protest."

"Hush, Leroy," Hiram said. "What is it, Rachel?"

She glanced at Santana and Quinn, squared her shoulders, and said, "My soul source chose Santana."

"Soul source?" Quinn muttered.

"Her lamp," Santana said.

Quinn nodded and watched. She was great at reading people, and she was relieved and a little hopeful, when she saw that neither of Rachel's fathers looked angry.

"Technically it's a gold star piggy bank," Leroy said. "Well…this is interesting. Did this happen soon after…" he waved a hand, indicating the two of them.

"Two days ago."

The men exchanged a glance.

"Well," Hiram said. "We still have one wish left, right?"

Santana felt a surge of burning anger. Was that all they cared about?

Rachel nodded. "That's right."

"Well, then…we wish for an extension."

The silence that engulfed the kitchen was suffocating.

"What?" Rachel asked finally.

"What's an extension?" Santana asked, panicking.

"They wished for more wishes."

"The fuck?"

"I feel like that's cheating…." Quinn said, conversationally.

"It's not," Leroy said.

"How does this work?" Santana asked.

"Don't worry, we only get three more. Then you're her owner for good."

"I'm not her owner!" Santana snapped. "That's not what I care about!"

"Sure. We said that too. You'll get used to thinking of her that way. However noble you want to be, it boils down to the fact that she's your sl—"

"Enough!" Quinn said loudly. "Before Santana red-zones. Berry fathers one and two, is it okay if Rachel stays with me?"

"For how long?"

"Until she, Santana, and I board a train to New York," Quinn said cooly.

Leroy chuckled. "Do you want to stay with Quinn, Rachel?"

Rachel nodded slowly.

"Fine. That's fine with us. We'll call you with our wishes."

"Okay," Rachel said quietly. "Thank you."

* * *

"Quinn, honey, is that you?"

"Hi Mom…umm…"

Judy turned around to find her daughter and the girl she knew was McKinley High's best singer. "Rachel? Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Is it okay if Rachel stays with us?"

Judy looked from her daughter to Rachel. "Of course. You're vegan, right? I'll make some veggie stir fry tonight. Quinn, get her settled in."

The girls headed upstairs, and into the guest bedroom. Quinn sent a quick text to Santana as Rachel dropped her bags.

"She says she'll meet us for breakfast tomorrow. Family time."

Rachel nodded. "Thanks for this, Quinn."

"Don't even worry about it," she said, hugging her.


	4. A Moment to Relax

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

As per Quinn's instructions, they spent their weekend having fun. On Saturday, they got back from a long shopping trip, in which Santana had argued the practicality of crotchless underwear with a completely straight face while Rachel listened in fascination and horror. Quinn and the sales assistant had just sniggered in the background. After terrorizing the people in the music store (Quinn and Rachel insisted on having a Florence and the Machine sing off), they headed back to Quinn's house to chill.

"I want to bake stuff," Rachel announced.

Santana and Quinn exchanged a glance.

"Huh?" they said in unison.

"Occasionally, when I was alone at my house, I would be overwhelmed by the desire to bake. It's happening now, even though you guys are here."

"Is this a genie thing?" Santana asked.

Rachel laughed. "No. Just a Rachel Barbara Berry thing. Quinn, do you think your mother would mind if we utilized her kitchen for a while?"

"She most definitely wouldn't," Judy said, appearing in the doorway. "I'm going to a real estate convention. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Make sure you clean up your dishes, girls."

"On it, Mama Judy," Santana said.

"Have fun. No alcohol," the older Fabray said, walking down the hall.

"What are we making?" Quinn asked.

"I found a recipe for a vegan spice cake that I've been dying to try. Do you have applesauce in your pantry, Quinn?"

"Applesauce? Um…we might?"

"What do you need applesauce for?" Santana asked, completely confused.

"Egg substitute. Don't worry, I shall teach you the ways of my people," she said, grinning.

"Oh lord, we're about to be inducted into a coven of tiny vegan genies," Quinn muttered.

Santana just laughed and followed Rachel to the kitchen.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Santana and Quinn were staring at the covered island. When Rachel had said "overwhelming desire to bake" she hadn't been kidding. They were now looking at lemon cupcakes, the spice cake, white chocolate covered pretzels, and a pizza.

"Wow." Santana surveyed all of the food in awe.

"May I just say that I adore your mother for buying a house with a double oven," Rachel said, picking a "tofuroni" off the pizza and eating it.

"Anyone repeats this, and I end you," Quinn began, "But seriously? These vegan cupcakes are the shit."

"Ha! I knew I would convert you one day!"

"Giggity," Santana quipped. She laughed when the other two groaned.

They were just about to cut into the pizza when Rachel's phone rang.

"It's my dads." She put the call on speakerphone and answered. "Hello?"

"Hi Rachel. I'm going to assume that I'm on speaker, since I've gotten a feel for how protective your girlfriends are."

"Just throwing this out there," Quinn said, "I have not been promoted from bestie status yet, nor am I remotely gay."

"Bullshit," Santana muttered.

"Anyway," Hiram said. "I was wondering if you could come over on Monday afternoon, Rachel. Of course, Santana and Quinn would be welcome too."

"Sure…is everything okay?"

"Just need to talk about our last three wishes."

_Of fucking course_, Santana thought.

"Sure," Rachel said. "I'll be there."

"See you then."

The girls stood quietly for a moment. Santana fidgeted.

"No," Quinn said firmly.

"No what?" Rachel asked.

"No, we're not letting this ruin our weekend. We're still going to do ridiculous shit and have fun and watch old school Disney movies. We're going to have a normal fucking sleepover without your dads fucking it up."

"Someone's pissed," Santana said, happy that Quinn shared her rage. "Let's eat. And fair warning? When you two are geeking out over 101 Dalmatians, I'll be getting my research on. I fucking hate that movie."

"So we're not going to get a Dalmatian when we move to New York?" Rachel asked, giving Santana a dramatic pout.

"I'll buy you a Husky," Santana said, kissing her. "Much more badass."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Enough, you two. Let's go watch movies."

* * *

True to her word, Santana rummaged through all of their genie info as the credits to 101 Dalmatians came on. The only thing she hadn't read yet was the kid's book they'd grabbed that first day. So, resigning herself to the fact that she'd still have to pay attention to at least half the movie, she cracked open The Ballad of Taraji and started reading.

Rachel glanced over later to see Santana flip all the way back to the start of the book and begin reading again. She gave her a puzzled look, but didn't comment.

By the end of the movie, however, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She'd seen Santana read the same few pages at least three times, and the whole book twice. "Something interesting in there?"

"Huh?" Santana asked, looking up in a slight daze. "Oh, yeah…It's a cute story. Legend. Whatchamicallit."

"You okay, S?" Quinn asked.

"Totally," Santana said, sounding normal again. "Hey…I know this is supposed to be a chill weekend, but I have a question."

"What's up?" Rachel asked.

"Could you tell us about…the other yous?"

"My other existences? Sure…I guess. But why…?"

"I'm curious."

Rachel had a feeling there was more to it than that, but she just shrugged. "Okay. I guess we can start with Rachel the Scullery Maid."


	5. Rachel the Maid

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

_The small girl shuffled as quickly as she could, ignoring the drunken nobles who pinched her as she passed. She nearly tripped down the stairs trying to dodge a couple of the more aggressive ones. _

"_Aye, little lady. Careful now," the innkeeper said, catching her. "Go on to your master."_

"_Th—thank you sir."_

_He grunted and waddled off toward the kitchen. _

_She continued on to the head table, setting the flagon of wine next to one of the taller men. _

"_Rachel!" he bellowed, hugging her. "What a good little sssserving girl you are!" He was lisping something horrible, having already had about three flagons of wine. "Go on, get sssome ressssst. We musssst be up earl *hiccup* early tomorrow."_

_She nodded and tried to pull away, but he was still hugging her round the waist._

"_A goooood lithle sssearing girl!" he said, kissing the top of her head. "And magical to boot!"_

"_No! One of the twilight races, my lord?"_

_He nodded. "Rasshel! I wish for a hot meat pie! Go on!"_

_Rachel touched a finger to her lips and breathed in deeply. "May I go now?" she asked, once the pie had appeared before him._

"_Aye! Off with ye!"_

_She ran upstairs as fast as she could. She closed the door to her room, wishing it had a lock. _

* * *

"If what I think is about to happen, is actually about to happen," Quinn began, looking pale, "could you please gloss over it?"

"Ditto," Santana said. She looked a little ill.

Rachel nodded. "It almost happened. Lord Almhurst came up and…well…things weren't looking great. But then…."

* * *

_There was a loud booming knock at the door. _

_Rachel shrieked again and landed a good solid kick to her master's chin. She scrambled into the corner as the door burst open._

_The innkeeper stood there holding a large wooden club. He surveyed the scene in an instant and barked, "What's the meaning of this, Almhurst?"_

"_You dare talk to me like that?" the knight yelled back, cradling his bleeding chin. _

"_I asked, what is the meaning of this? What sort of knight would rape a woman? Not even a woman—a young child? Does the king know? Does his Majesty know that his knights are nothing but cowardly—"_

"_DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Almhurst roared, pulling his sword. _

"_Do you intend to be a murderer and a rapist?" the landlord asked. "If so, I'm fine with that. I'll go to my grave secure in the knowledge that you did not lay a finger on this girl this night."_

_Almhurst deflated at this and sheathed his sword. He walked to where Rachel was cowering in a corner._

_The innkeeper raised his club, ready to strike, but it wasn't necessary. _

_Almhurst grabbed Rachel by the hair and pushed her toward the innkeeper. "If you would not bed me, you would not have a bed. Be gone."_

"_Come, child," the innkeeper said gently. He led her up more stairs to another room. "I will lock you in for the night. No one will harm you."_

"_Thank you." _

"_What's that? Round your neck?"_

_The gold coin she wore on a chain was glowing softly. "It…you know what I am?"_

"_Aye. I've seen you do your tricks."_

"_It's…chosen you as my new master?"_

_Surprise passed across his face momentarily. "Well, master or no, you still need to sleep. Go on."_

* * *

"He sounds okay," Santana said. She was shaking slightly.

Rachel cuddled into her and nodded. "He was. He only ever wished for two things. A bigger inn, and a fresh cow," she said, smiling. "It was his son who was…is…awful. Everything was fine until she was thirteen. He died, and she was passed to his son. He wanted everything. He would wish for so many things in one day that she would be too weak to work."

* * *

"_Rachel!"_

_She shuddered and pushed herself into a sitting position. "Yes, Master James?"_

"_I wish—"_

"_Please…I don't know how many more I can do today. I'm tired."_

"_This is the last one. I wish for an emerald ring to give to the merchant's daughter when she comes to stay."_

_With what looked like excruciating effort, Rachel nodded and put a finger to her lips. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again._

_The innkeeper reached into his pocket and smiled as he inspected the ring. "Very good. Come down now. I'll take my supper—"_

"_I can't."_

"_Excuse me."_

"_I can barely move. I can't come down."_

_The blow landed hard and fast. "You ungrateful—"_

"_You wished for ten things today. My energy is drained."_

_He growled, but backed away. "Don't expect supper. If you're too tired to serve me, then you're too tired to eat." He left, slamming the door. _

* * *

The trio sat in silence. Quinn had tears running down her face, and Santana was still shaking.

Rachel reached over and wiped Quinn's tears away with a tissue. She gave Santana the biggest hug she could manage. "If you guys want to stop, I understand."

"No…we…" Quinn struggled to say.

"We want to know, all of it," Santana said. "But maybe…. Let's hear the other ones tomorrow. I don't know if I can…."

Rachel nodded. "Come on. Cheer up cupcakes in the kitchen. Then I'm kicking both of your asses at Mario Kart."

Quinn sniffed and managed a smile. "You're on, Berry."


	6. Rachel the Jazz Singer

_**LbN: For those who aren't familiar with some bits of American history, "Sundown laws" were laws that said black people couldn't be out after sunset. In some places, black people had to be out of the entire town before sundown. Small reference to those this chapter. **_

When Santana woke up the next morning, she had to stifle a laugh. Rachel was all cuddled up with Quinn, and both were snoring.

She slid out of bed as quietly as possible, snapped a picture with her phone, posted it to Facebook, and went downstairs to make breakfast.

* * *

The other two made it down a while later, and caught Santana making breakfast and singing along to "Some Nights".

"And that's all right; I found a martyr in my bed tonight," Quinn joined in.

"She stops my bones from wondering just who I am," Rachel sang.

"Morning," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "Made vegan French toast stuffed with strawberries."

"I love you," Rachel said.

"Good," Santana laughed.

"So…are we going to continue today?" Rachel asked.

Quinn and Santana shared a glance and then nodded.

"Sure," Santana said. "Just, let's eat first. If this next one is anything like the last one, I'll need time to make sure my food is properly digested."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Just so you know, this one's not as bad."

They finished their breakfast in silence, and stacked the dishes in the sink. Quietly they made their way back into the living room to listen to Rachel's next story. Rachel noticed that Santana had The Ballad of Taraji out, with a few pages bookmarked, but she decided to ask about it later.

"Okay, this one's a jazz singer during the 20s."

* * *

_There was a knock at the small dressing room's door. Rachel hurried to answer it. "Elaine," she said, smiling. "Flowers really aren't necessary every weekend."_

"_But they are," the large woman said, setting the vase of roses on the vanity. "You've been doing a marvelous job."_

"_Thank you," Rachel said quietly. "Are there many people out there?"_

"_Tons. Thanks to our little…er…trick, we're one of the only places in town that hasn't been popped by the coppers for alcohol. Word gets around, so our little joint is packed. Do you need anything before you go on?"_

"_No, I'm fine."_

"_Right, then call for stage is in ten. One other thing?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_We need about fifty more glasses out at the bar. Business is good tonight, as I said."_

_A look of total calm came over Rachel as she closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them again and smiled. "Done."_

"_You're a peach."_

_Rachel ran through her warm ups once the woman left. She opened her door a few minutes later to find her six-five, three hundred pound body guard standing there smiling at her. "Time for the show, Vito," she said. _

"_Right you are Miss Bloomsbury. Stick close to me."_

_She took his arm and they made their way to the open lobby of the club. Through the slightly frosted glass of the door, she could see that it was indeed a full house—standing room only. The middle aisle was clear of people, however, and she had a clear view of her band. She nodded at Albert, her drummer, and he began to beat out a fast rhythm. Scooter, her bassist, began to strum along a second later. As the horns fired up, Vito threw open the double doors and led Rachel in to enormous applause. _

_She sang, making her way up the center aisle. She threw winks and blew kisses along the way, and by the time she reached the stage, half of the crowd was on its feet. _

_The audience danced along as she sang. At the end, many lifted their glasses or tipped their hats to her._

"_Thank you," she said, smiling out at the crowd. "This next song—" but she broke off as Roxie, the lead trumpet, placed a hand on her shoulder. The room had gone deathly quiet, and when she looked toward the back, she realized why. _

_About twenty police officers were lining the back wall. One of them came down the center aisle, clapping slowly. He was dressed in plain clothes—a shirt, slacks, and a brown trench coat—but anyone with an ounce of common sense could tell he was with the force. _

"_Very good," he said. "Very, very good. This place sure lives up to the hype, don't it fellas?"_

_There were chuckles and nods from the other cops. _

"_The Great Elaine's Hideaway," he said, reading the embossing on a cup. He sniffed it. "Cranberry juice? You're a manly man, ain'tcha?"_

_The patron glared at him._

_With a smirk, he glanced over to where Elaine was pushing through the crowd, trying to get from the bar to the stage. Then he climbed onto the stage and stood towering over Scooter. "What's your name, boy?"_

"_Name's William, sir. William Jones Jr., sir. But all anyone calls me is Scooter, sir."_

"_Scooter. Can you read my name?" he asked, pulling out his I.D. _

_Scooter looked nervously between him and the badge a few times. "Detective McCormick," he said slowly, quietly._

"_Damn fellas!" McCormick yelled back to the others, making Scooter jump and nearly drop his bass. "We got a nigger who can read! What's a low down colored boy doing working in a white club?"_

_Rachel moved in front of him and glared at the detective. "Don't you go picking on him!" she snapped. "He's just a kid. He's done nothing wrong, and he has his license to work here."_

"_And you must be Miss Rachel," he said, taking her face between two thick fingers. "I've heard some interesting things about you. Oh yes, very interesting."_

"_I don't set much store by people who've nothing better to do with their time than spread rumors about young women," she told him coolly. _

_Detective McCormick chuckled as Elaine finally made it to the stage. He didn't bother addressing her—just handed her a few folded papers and called back to the rest of the cops. "Boys! Take this place apart. Let's see if we can't find something."_

* * *

"We—I mean, they—would have been okay any other night. Unfortunately, someone had broken the rule that night."

"What rule?" Quinn asked.

"No outside alcohol. See, Elaine had wished that no one would find our alcohol. Remember when I told you to be specific with your wishes?"

They nodded.

"That particular one, as we found out, wasn't specific enough. They didn't find _our_ alcohol, but they found the stuff that some chucklehead had brought in. And Detective Dickhead put it all on us. A riot started."

* * *

_Bottles, expletives, and batons were flying everywhere. Vito jumped on stage, grabbed Scooter by the scruff of the neck, threw Rachel over his shoulder as easily as a bag of flour, and took them both through the stage's side door. He rushed them down two flights of stairs and kicked open a small door off a corridor at the bottom. Gently, he placed Rachel on her feet. "Listen here, you two," he said, grabbing a large wooden bat. "I'm going to lock you in. If I ain't back by morning, you crawl out that window there. It'll put you on the east end of 14th Street, got me?" He scribbled something down and stuck the paper in Scooter's front pocket. "You go to that address and ask for Mrs. Sciarrotta. That's my Ma, and she'll look after you until things cool down. Do not go a minute before sun up," he said sharply, looking hard at Scooter. "These damn Sundown Laws are creeping out of hick towns and into the city…. You'll be shot on sight."_

"_I understand," Scooter said, putting an arm around Rachel. _

_Vito nodded once and left through the door. _

_They heard the lock turn, and Rachel sank to the couch, breathing hard. _

_Scooter went to the small ice box and pulled out some club soda. He poured two glasses and sat down next to Rachel. "Here you go. Sip slowly—like we're older and its gin," he joked. _

"_Thank you," she said, managing a small smile. _

"_Thank _you_," he said. "For what you did out there."_

_She smiled and nudged him gently on the shoulder. _

_It was a long wait to sun up._

* * *

"We—they were fine in the end," Rachel explained. "Vito came for us around four in the morning. Basically the whole club had been smashed up. Elaine had been arrested. But there were so many sober people there that night, that we had plenty of witnesses for our police brutality case. A lot of people even took up for Scooter—saying the detective had been goading him, and that he didn't lose his head even once. After the investigation, they couldn't keep Elaine locked up. They couldn't find any evidence of us actually selling alcohol; only that it had been on the premises." She paused and took a sip of her water. "Elaine got out, and we paid the fines—rebuilt everything. She started drinking, but she never hurt me physically."

Quinn snorted. "Yeah, my dad never hurt me physically either. What did she do?"

"Lots of verbal abuse. Business went south a bit for a while. People were scared, you know? She blamed me. Said I should've performed the wish better, or something. But that didn't stop her from wishing for things. In any case, she's not like the landlord, or the knight. She's actually kind of cool, when she's sober. Gives me anything I want, and I grant all her wishes. She's gotten greedy lately, with the end of prohibition. But still, it's my fathers' sort of greedy—nothing especially ostentatious or taxing, but a lot of little things."

They sat quietly for a second.

"So Nurse Rachel is next, right?" Santana asked.

"Yep! But Glee Rachel has to use the facilities and needs a snack before that story. Be right back."


	7. Rachel the Nurse

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

When they heard the door to the bathroom close, Quinn nudged Santana. "Spill. You've had that book in your hands since yesterday. What's up?"

"I know it's just a stupid kid's book," Santana said. She looked down at it and frowned. It was what libraries described as "well loved", i.e. it was held together with duct tape and prayers at this point. "But Rachel told me most books on genies have some sort of basis in fact. Don't tell her—I don't want to get her hopes up—but I think I found a loophole."

"To what?"

"To be able to set her free."

They heard the toilet flush and Santana changed topics.

"Notice how she kept switching from 'we' to 'they' when she was telling Jazz Rachel's story?"

"I think she's doing that for our benefit. So we're not upset. She's distancing her existence from her other ones."

"All right, I'm back!" Rachel said, coming into the room with a cupcake. "So…uh…"

"Nurse Rachel. She's on the front lines, right?"

"Um…she was."

"Was?" Quinn asked.

"She…sort of…died recently."

"DIED?" Santana yelped.

"How recently?" Quinn asked.

"When I was grabbing a cupcake, recently."

"What happened?" Santana asked, looking woozy.

"I should tell her whole story," Rachel said. "It'll be better that way."

* * *

"_Room four!" the doctor yelled._

_Rachel rushed through the crowded hospital. She made it to room four and had to take a moment to center herself. _

_There were wounded soldiers lying in rows on the floor—the beds had been removed to make more space. These men weren't in life threatening danger, but they were most definitely in pain. She distributed more morphine bottles to her fellow nurses before kneeling next to one of the soldiers._

"_Shhh…it's going to be okay," she said, placing a hand on his forehead. She looked down to where the other nurse was dressing his leg wound. _

"_Go ahead and give him a shot," the older nurse said._

_They paused for a moment, listening to the bombs in the distance. _

"_My name is Rachel," she told him softly. "What's yours?"_

"_J-jimmy, ma'am. Jimmy Thompson."_

"_Okay, Jimmy. I'm going to give you a shot for the pain. Is that okay?"_

_He nodded, and turned his head as she pulled out the Syrette. _

"_Where are you from, Jimmy?" she asked, giving him the morphine dose._

"_Oklahoma, ma'am. Small town. Got a brother and two little sisters back home."_

"_We better get you up and kicking again, then, so you can go see them," she said, smiling._

_He smiled back._

"Oh for fuck's sake," Santana muttered. "This sounds like the beginning of a damn Nickolas Sparks novel."

"Oh, just wait," Rachel said.

_Jimmy was sitting up when she came in the next day. She handed him his lunch tray and sat next to him to check his injury. _

"_Most girls I know would faint if they got a look of my busted leg," he said._

"_I grew up with five older brothers," she said, smiling. "I'm accustomed to seeing wounds."_

_He chuckled at this, but then sobered as they heard screams from another room. "Do you know? Do you know who that is? It kept happening last night too."_

"_Jimmy…."_

"_Please, Miss Rachel."_

_She sighed. "Lieutenant Cranes."_

_Jimmy looked down at his lap, nodding slightly. "Do you think he'll make it?"_

"_I don't know."_

_He looked back up at her. "Thank you for telling me the truth."_

* * *

"He was a nice boy, but I could…I could tell he was slipping away. We got shipped back to Hawaii, and I stayed with him through his physical training. He got really depressed…."

* * *

"_Well done, Jimmy!" Rachel said, helping him into his wheelchair. "You've been doing so much better."_

"_Don't know why it matters," he grumbled. "I'll never walk right again."_

"_You will. You have to keep trying."_

_He sighed, and idly played with his dog tags. "I don't get it sometimes…. I don't know what we're fighting for anymore."_

_She knelt in front of him. "Look at me. What do you see when you see me?"_

"_An amazing woman who saved my life. My angel…or genie, I suppose," he said, smiling slightly. _

"_There are people in this world who don't even see me, and my family, as worthy of respect, dignity, or life. That's what you're fighting for. You're fighting for me, people like me, and everyone the Nazis say are 'subhuman'. You're a hero to me and everyone in our country. I know this is hard, but it's real. And you got this," she said, nodding to his leg, "fighting for what's right."_

_He stared out of the window for a bit. "I wish for a Coke."_

_She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she handed him the soda and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

* * *

"Hi girls!" Judy called.

The three of them jumped.

"Hi!" they called.

"What have you girls been up to?" Judy asked, coming into the living room. "Besides eating copious amounts of cupcakes."

"Movies, horror stories, and we even indulged in a brief, yet epic, pillow fight," Rachel said, coming to their rescue. "It was highly satisfying. How was your convention?"

Judy smiled. "Good, but long. And someone had on way too much perfume. Anyway, I'm going to get showered and take a quick nap."

Once she was back upstairs, Rachel began her story again.

* * *

_Jimmy limped toward her, leaning heavily on his cane. _

_She smiled brightly. "Looking good! And—"_

"_I wish for the pain to go away," he said, wincing._

_She sighed, but granted it. "You should rest."_

"_I've had enough resting," he snapped. "I want to get back out there. I should be fighting, not taking a vacation."_

"_This is hardly a vacation, and you know they won't let you back out," she said softly._

_He stared at her with a blank expression, and then hobbled over to the window without another word. _

_Rachel was about to leave when another nurse rushed in. _

"_We need you on floor three," she said. "Emergencies."_

"_What happened?" _

"_Not sure, but it's looking bad." The nurse lowered her voice. "More of the 33rd boys."_

_Jimmy's head whipped around. "That's my infantry!"_

_Rachel glared at her. "I'll be back later, Jimmy."_

"_Wait!" he said, hobbling over to her. He took her gently by the shoulders. "I wish for all of them to live. Do you hear me? None of them can—"_

"_Jimmy," Rachel said desperately. "You know that's not how it works."_

"_I'm wishing it. You have to grant it. I'm your owner."_

"_Jimmy—"_

"_Make sure they don't die," he said, letting go of her._

* * *

"Let me guess…." Quinn said sadly.

Rachel nodded. "He'd come up while we were working, took a gun off one of the guards. Started shooting everything in sight when his best friend died. Shot Nurse Rachel twice."

Santana pulled Rachel closer.

"Santana?" Rachel said quietly. "I know you, and maybe Quinn, have a plan. And I know it has something to do with this book." She tapped The Ballad of Taraji. "I trust you," she said simply.

Santana hugged her tighter, and Quinn joined in as well.


	8. Santana's Final Wish

**Gold Stars and Wishes**

Santana and Rachel skipped school the next day. They sat around Santana's house talking, watching movies, being goofy with one another, and generally avoiding the fact that things could get mighty real in the next few hours. Rachel fell asleep after lunch, as they were watching _Sherlock_.

Santana sat next to her, running her fingers through the younger girl's hair for a bit. Then she took out The Ballad of Taraji and started to read the first chapter again.

_There once was a peasant woman. She and her family were very poor, and had nothing to eat. One day, she stole a loaf of bread for her brothers, but as she made to run, she was caught. The judges sentenced her to exile on a small, rocky island off the coast of the country. He had guards man a ship off the coast to report back when she was dead. _

_She refused to die quietly, and walked round the small island for three days—until her feet were bruised and bloody. She was tired and weak, but she walked on. Eventually, when fatigue had nearly taken over, she tripped. Looking back at the ground behind her, she saw something sticking out of the sand and rocks. It was a lamp. She dug in the sand for a moment and pulled it out. It was old, and looked like it had been buried for ages. She wiped it off, and dropped it as it shook from the inside. _

_A man appeared in front of her. "My lady, what is your wish?"_

"_A genie," she whispered._

_He nodded, kneeling down to face her. "You may ask for anything your heart desires. Three things, and then I shall return to my slumber. Would you have me mend your feet?"_

"_And what good would that do? The men who sent me here will send others. My feet are unimportant. I wish for the end of corruption in our land—for a golden king and queen to take the throne."_

_The genie looked puzzled, but nodded. "It is done, my lady. Now, you look very weak. Would you have me fetch you food?"_

"_What use have I for food? To prolong this miserable existence on the island? No. I wish that my family would never go hungry again."_

_The genie smiled. "It is done. And what would you have for your third wish?"_

_The woman was quiet for a moment. "It is said that genies are slaves. Is this true?"_

"_It is true, my lady."_

"_I wish, then, for your freedom," she said quietly._

_The lamp cracked, and the genie swayed a bit. "A selfless soul," he whispered. "Allow me to stay with you, my lady."_

_She looked into his kind face and nodded._

_The genie waved his hands, healing her feet. "I am able to use my magic freely now. I will take us back to your family."_

_They were married in the spring, and in another nine months the woman gave birth to a daughter. They named her Taraji—hope and faith—and kept her a secret from the world. This was because she was a new sort of genie. She could grant wishes to her owner (her mother) and anyone else she pleased. And she could grant them for as long as she wished. _

_Before her mother passed on, she gave Taraji a necklace—her soul source. "I can't free you, my love. I have used your power too often, and too often for myself. Look for a selfless soul."_

"Santana?"

Santana jumped. "Hey sleepyhead," she said quietly.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly three. Should we get going?"

Rachel stretched and nodded.

* * *

"Afternoon girls," Leroy said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"We're supposed to meet Quinn at Breadstix in a little while," Rachel said. "What did you guys need?"

"We've decided on our last wishes," Hiram said.

"Okay," Rachel said, attempting to sound chipper rather than nervous. "Let's hear them."

"We wish for two million dollars," he started.

Rachel closed her eyes and held a finger to her lips. "Done. It'll show up in your account tomorrow, I'm guessing. What else?"

"We wish for a summer house in Germany," Leroy said, handing her a picture.

She glanced down at it and nodded, repeating her "wish giving" gesture. "Done. Have you…decided on a third one?"

They looked at each other.

"We don't know," Hiram said. "We're not sure Santana's up to the…responsibility of being your owner."

"Let's get one thing perfectly straight," Santana snapped. "I'm not her owner; I'm her girlfriend."

"And once again, I'll tell you that you'll get used to the idea," Leroy told her. "Anyway, we're not sure if we should hang on to this last wish, or…let you go completely."

"You wouldn't really free me," Rachel whispered. "It's not my fault my soul source chose Santana. Why would you free me because of that?"

"Because they're petty assholes," Santana said. "If they can't have you—control you—no one can. Right, guys?"

"You think you're so much better than us," Hiram sneered. "Have her around for a few years—you'll get used to living comfortably. Just like we have."

"No," Santana said quietly. "I'll never use her like you."

"You're her owner. Even with us holding onto this one wish—she belongs to you. That's your right."

Santana stared at them, and then turned to Rachel. She took a deep breath. "Trust me?"

"Always," Rachel whispered.

Santana could see in her girlfriend's eyes that Rachel knew exactly what was happening. "Rachel," she said, just as quietly. "I wish for your freedom."

"NO!" both Berry men shouted, but it was too late.

Rachel moved quickly to Santana and wrapped her in a hug.

But soon, there was no one in Santana's arms. Rachel had disappeared. She stood in the silent kitchen, staring at the space where her girlfriend had been.

"Good work," Leroy said. "Now you've sent her off to god knows where."

"No, I haven't."

"I hope you're satisfied. I hope you can sleep at night, knowing that while trying to protect her from us, you've sent her back to some alcoholic or rapist or—"

"SHUT UP!" Santana screamed. She stood there fuming for a moment, then raced out to her car. She peeled out of the driveway and gunned it, tears blurring her vision. She drove all the way to the outskirts of town before stopping. She turned off the car, and cried.

And prayed.


	9. Come Back To Me

_**LbN: Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, favoriting, etc. I try to reply to all of my reviews, but RL has been cray lately. Please know that it means a ton to me whenever you take the time to review. Love you guys! Hope you like the ending!**_

She rented a sleazy motel room on the outskirts of town. Other than a quick text to her parents to let them know she'd be away that night, and a text to Quinn to say she was alive, she didn't talk to anyone. She stared, wide-eyed, at the ceiling mirror all evening, playing out every possible situation in her mind.

She'd done the right thing.

She'd done the right thing.

She'd done the right thing.

Tears came, even as she kept repeating this to herself.

* * *

It took Santana a while to get going in the morning. Half of her wanted to stay there in bed, but the other half wanted—needed—to get to school. In the end, she had to know. She gargled with the complimentary mouthwash and straightened her rumpled close as best she could before leaving.

By the time she made it to school, first period was just letting out. She made her way to Rachel's locker and stood there, looking up and down the hall.

"Santana?"

"Quinn, have you seen her?" Santana asked, turning to her best friend.

Quinn shook her head. "I thought she might be with you."

At this, Santana began to take deep breaths, trying hard not to break down into sobs.

"Hey…easy. Remember what she told us? When we asked if WWII Rachel had been reformed in another time yet? It takes time."

"It took an hour, and she ended up in the Civil Rights Movement," Santana said. "It's been nearly 15 hours…."

"You did the right thing, S," Quinn said. "You let her go."

"I wish I knew where she went."

Quinn pulled her into a tight hug. "Come on, let's go to class."

* * *

She didn't show up in math, or history, or English.

Santana was actively, but silently, crying by the time they made it to glee.

"She's gone, Quinn. It's my fault."

Quinn didn't say anything, but rubbed Santana's back. "Let's try to get through glee. But if it's too much, we can duck out early."

They sat in the back, separate from everyone else. Still, Tina came by and squeezed Santana's shoulder when they got in. Santana knew the younger girl had no idea what was going on, but it almost made her feel a little better to know her friends cared.

"God, what's the drama now?" Finn asked, exasperated, as he came in and saw Santana.

"Finn," Quinn said in a deadly calm voice that made the whole room fall silent. "If you even look at Santana wrong today, much less say one more word to her, I will castrate you. Ant," she pointed at him, "meet boot." She pointed to herself then, and quirked an eyebrow.

Properly scolded, Finn muttered, "Sorry," and took his seat.

"Right guys!" Mr. Schue said, coming in. "Er…Santana?"

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Schue," Quinn said firmly.

"Where's Ra—"

"Again, not the time," Quinn said, cutting him off.

"Okay…. Well, uh, as you know, this week was a free week. Does anyone have anything they'd like to perform?"

There was silence for a long moment, then Blaine raised his hand.

"I have something," he said, standing. "I just…this is something that's been on my mind."

_You say you gotta go and find yourself  
You say that you're becoming someone else  
Don't recognize the face in the mirror  
Looking back at you_

_You say you're leavin_g  
_As you look away_  
_I know there's really nothing left to say_  
_Just know I'm here_  
_Whenever you need me_  
_I'll wait for you_

_So i'll let you go_  
_I'll set you free_  
_And when you see what you need to see_  
_When you find you come back to me_

"Oh my god, I can't do this," Santana whispered, closing her eyes.

_Take your time I won't go anywhere_  
_Picture you with the wind in your hair_  
_I'll keep your things right where you left them_  
_I'll be here for you_

_Oh and I'll let you go_  
_I'll set you free_  
_And when you see what you need to see_  
_When you find you come back to me_

_And i hope you find everything that you need_  
_I'll be right here waiting to see_  
_You find you come back to me_

_I can't get close if you're not there_  
_I can't get inside if there's no soul to bear_  
_I can't fix you i can't save you_  
_It's something you have to do_

"I…I can't," Santana said. "I'm leaving."

"Oh, my god. Santana, look."

Santana looked, as did everyone else.

Rachel had just walked in. She beamed at Santana as Blaine continued to sing.

_So I'll let you go  
I'll set you free  
And when you see what you need to see  
When you find you come back to me  
Come back to me _

Santana rushed down the steps and pulled Rachel into a fierce hug, not caring that the whole glee club was watching.

_So I'll let you go  
I'll set you free  
And when you see what you need to see  
When you find you come back to me_

_And I hope you find everything that you need_  
_I'll be right here waiting to see_  
_You find you come back to me_

_When you find you come back to me_  
_When you find you come back to me_  
_When you find you come back to me_

The girls didn't pull apart when the song ended. Finally, Santana whispered. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

"What happened?" Santana croaked.

They'd spent about an hour sobbing unrestrainedly into each other's shoulders in Santana's room. After that, they'd just held each other, silently thanking every deity known to man. Quinn had sent a text respectfully requesting that they all skip the next day and hang out at her place, but didn't bother them other than that. It was getting dark by the time either of them managed to pull themselves together enough to speak.

"It was…weird. It felt like this great big rush of power when you did it. And then I was…falling. Not the scary kind, more like floating, I guess. And everything was bright, and perfect. And then I was here again. I got to school as soon as I remembered how to walk properly."

Santana let out a relieved, slightly hysterical laugh and pulled Rachel closer.

"Can I show you something?" Rachel whispered.

Santana looked at her quizzically, and then nodded.

Rachel sat up, and dropped her hoodie off her shoulders.

"It's gone!" Santana yelped. She ran a hand over Rachel's back. "So it…it really worked."

Rachel nodded, and cuddled back next to her girlfriend. "I'm my own now. Really free."

Santana was sure astronauts in space could probably see her smile, but she didn't even care. "I could go for some vegetable soup and breadsticks right now, how about you?"

A supremely relaxed look came over Rachel's face and she nodded.

There was a quiet _clunk! _behind Santana, and she turned. Two bowls of soup and a plate full of breadsticks were sitting on her desk. She turned back to Rachel, wide eyed. "How?"

With a sly grin, Rachel said, "Just because I'm free doesn't mean I'm not still magical."

**_Fin_**

**__**_**LbN: Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! There's a new poll up on my profile if you want to vote. Happy reading, peeps! ;)**_


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